


Curse of the Pines

by PowerOfMabel



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Dipper Pines, Conspiracy, Dipper Pines' Real Name, F/F, Memory Loss, Pansexual Mabel Pines, Past Abuse, Separated Twins, Slow Burn, Spoilers - Journal 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7793860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PowerOfMabel/pseuds/PowerOfMabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mason had always been a lonely child. No siblings, no mother and a deadbeat father. In the summer of 2020 he finally gets his own place as far away from his old life as possible- the remote town of Gravity Falls, Oregon. He expected to study in quiet solitude for a few years before moving on. Instead he finds himself caught in a paranormal conspiracy tied deeply to his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epilogue

Ink. Blood. Patterns on the pages, patterns in the trees. Patterns everywhere.

_I haven't got much time. I am certain now that he is following my every movement. **C** an invisible ink even stop him? Could be tracing the movements of my hand as I write, could have **U** V vision…blind. I was so blind!_

Watching, always watching. In the windows, in my pocket. Got rid of all my money. Don't go into town, any one of them could be yellow, yellow, yellow.

_One way or anothe **r** , this will be my final entry. If all goes well, tomorrow this journal will be safely hidden away in some godforsaken corner of the world. It…will be the first time seeing him in ten years._

Don't trust him! Don't trust him!

_F was right. That old crone wa **s** right. I should have listened, but no, I had to take a gamble!_

The crossroads. The ring. The lightning struck tower. A choice, A choice. You chose wrong!

_I had another dream last night…a vision. My mistak **e** s will forever stain our family…a curse passed down to all who share my blood. Not that we were ever a particularly illustrious lot. Liars, cheats and freaks. Strange as it sounds…that's why it has to be him._

Hey, what's the word Sixer?

_I've been keeping tabs. A hundred different faces for a hundred different crimes. And now, he's not just a criminal but a cursed criminal, not that he knows it yet. But he will. Logically, he should be the last person I trust._

Trust no-one!

_But he's still family. I have to try._

He'll betray you.

_…I went to a church today. I'd never been to one before. It's a lot different from a synagogue, but it has the same atmosphere. I suppose all such buildings do._

And who can blame him? You threw the first stone.

_I haven't been religious for a long time. It seems so long ago. Is it really only ten years?_

You abandoned him.

_It's not that I don't believe. After all I've seen, the possibility of a higher, divine being isn't unreasonable. It's more that…I don't have faith anymore. In the world. In myself._

4-6-3-5-4 10-9 9-10-19

_I can only hope that whatever or whoever is up there has mercy._

YROO XRKSVI GIRZMTOV

_This is S Pines, signing off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MP MXO RCOUFQKN W LQCOB LQL DTSMQ/MXSB CUT MGZN UFQG TG AMPN EFR KYEGQ/XRN ZNY OAAB OA LKIY TG RJORB WGIUB NMPC/LLQUO TKZYN LE JCDU S SYOLSMP NPSDS/AQBQHBN ZG BB LEDP FPSDJ/MXODY XM EHY JEU BO DXSHWB LLQUO ZSBY/AQYD JJWFC CM LLQ VRTU OCMA/KH JYA PULVROCK X XOULC XOD AUEKI/JJQ ABCOM WMRU CHQCSMO IE AEGMRH RSI


	2. New Arrivals

Coach trips, Mason had decided, were the wors **t**.

Summer was starting with ambitious spirit, and the 20-year old could swear he was going to melt long before he reached his destination. Hair damp with sweat stubbornly clung to the skin of his neck and forehead, and his pants had to be peeled off the ancient (and hideously patterned) seats every time he needed to use the on-board restroom. The can of soda he'd bought along had passed 'lukewarm' long ago.

Worst of all was the company. There was a surprisingly full house considering their destination was a small rural town in the middle of nowhere, with only a handful of empty seats- tourists, perhaps? Most of the passengers were families, and families meant young children screaming, crying, throwing things and barfing while their parents seemed eager to leave them to their own devices.

Mason was very glad he had the foresight to bring earplugs.

Content to drown out and ignore his obnoxious travel buddies, the young student took to sketching some of the Oregon scenery. It was awkward getting his sketchpad in a decent position, and he had to be wary of whenever they hit a pothole, but he was getting some good practice at landscapes.

The drag of pencil across paper always helped him relax. Today, he would move into a place of his own for the first time, would finally be a proper adult. OK, so his rent money and living costs were probably going to leave him living on cup noodles, and _yes_ he would have to share the place, but it still counted as being independent.

So engrossed was he in his drawing that it barely registered when the bus stopped to pick someone up. Briefly glancing outside, he noted they'd just passed through Roseburg. If he was remembering the maps right, they still had about an hour and a half drive.

Dismissing the town as of little consequence, he got back to sketching. He felt someone sit in the seat next to him but didn't really think about it.

He DID start paying attention when said someone poked him in the side playfully.

Startled, he turned to look at the offender with a sharp glare, and then blanched at the sight that greeted him.

An incredibly cheery looking girl was grinning at him, her **w** ide smile nearly blinding him. Literally; the harsh sun reflected off her braces, which was rather odd as she looked far too old to need them. A smattering of freckles lay across her rather round face, framed by long brunette hair. She wore a bizarre outfit; Mason was no fashion expert, but he was certain that a neon green sweater (In summer?) with a photo-realistic emblem of unicorns advising him to put "BRORSES BEFORE HORSES" did NOT go well with a tartan skirt and leopard print leggings.

She was quite possibly the most bizzare person Mason had ever met, and he wasn't sure if he should be aggravated or impressed.

She was mouthing something to him and flapping her hands about with great fervour. He stared, attempting to decipher the strange communication. Was she mute or deaf, and trying to use sign language? It didn't look like any he'd ever heard of. She was getting increasingly frustrated, face flushing red and her expression morphing into a pout. What was she-

The earplugs. Right.

Embarrassed, he plucked them out of his ears, wincing at the rush of noise and pressure.

"Uh, can I help you?" He asked tentatively.

The mystery girl sighed in relief. "Urgh, finally! I was trying to get your attention forever!"

It was closer to a minute by Mason's estimate, but he decided to humour her. "Right, sorry about that. I tend to zone out on long trips." He politely waited for her to ask whatever she'd been trying to get his attention about, but she just kept looking at him with wide eyes.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Look, if you aren't-"

"Have we met before?" She interrupted. "I swear I know you from somewhere."

Was she hitting on him? That had to be the most terrible pick-up line he'd ever heard. Definitely file under 'aggravating'.

…Although, now that he was thinking about it…

Her face was not set in a cocky grin or a leer like he would have expected, but screwed up in sincere confusion, like she was trying to remember something important. And though he was absolutely certain he'd never seen her before, an unsettling feeling of déjà vu hung over him. The shape of that nose...those brown eyes...no, no. He'd never met her before...probably.

"I don't think so." He answered nervously. She stared at him intensely, and he could feel the sweat run down his neck. What else was he supposed to say? He avoiding talking to people for a reason, he was _awful_ at it.

"Well, then let's get to know each other, mysteriously familiar stranger!" She exclaimed gleefully, accentuating each word with a friendly poke on his arm. "My name is Mabel!"

"Mason." He replied tersely, trying to return to his sketch.

"Whoa, cool! Are you an artist?" She leaned over to look, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort at the close contact. " **I** t's all nature and stuff!"

"Yeah." Couldn't she take a hint?

"I draw stuff too!" Mabel reached into her own backpack and extracted a sketchpad. Unlike Mason's, it was practically engulfed by stickers and glitter. It hurt to look at it- He could only imagine the childish quality of the 'art' within.

"Now, here's drawing number one- the 'Rainbow Court'. I drew this one when I was seven years old! It was a period of free exploration..."

Mason groaned and slumped in his seat. It was going to be longest hour and a half of his life.

* * *

After learning all about Mabel's political views on waffles, how she had a cat named Snake Eyes but always wanted a pig for a pet, and of course her crush on 'that guy from the ten dollar bill', Mason was incredibly relieved when the bus pulled up at the stop for Gravity Falls. The crowded vehicle slowly emptied, and he hurriedly stepped out in the fresh country air, his new 'friend' trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

Blinking, Mason realised that the bus stop seemed to be randomly placed on the road a fair distance from the edge of the town, which he could faintly make out through the trees at the bottom of the hill they were on. He was aware this place was rural, but this was something else. He turned to the incredibly bored looking driver.

"Hey man, can you drop us off a bit closer to the town?" He got a pair of closed automatic doors in his face for the trouble.

Grumbling, he retrieved his luggage from the lower compartment amidst the crowd attempting to do the same, luckily not having to fight anyone over disputed suitcase ownership. Wasn't it the driver's job to sort this out? They weren't getting a favourable review when he managed to setup internet in his new place, for sure.

As he started the trek into town, he noticed that after a while most of the passengers deviated from the main road to follow signs pointing towards something called 'The Mystery Shack'. The establishment was attempting to entice him with slogans such as 'BE BEWELDERED AND AMAZED', 'WHAT IS THE MYSTERY SHACK?', and 'FREE?'.

Rolling his eyes, he somehow managed to resist the temptation to waste all his money on hokey tourist traps. He'd lost track of Mabel at some point, so presumably she'd headed that way too. She seemed exactly the kind of person who'd fall for that junk, and he wasn't exactly sad to see her go.

He was just reaching the first buildings at the edge of town when he realised he wasn't entirely certai **n** how to get to his new home. He quickly whipped out his smartphone, only to be dismayed at the total lack of GPS or data signal. Not a good start.

Horror enveloped him as he realised he was going to have to _ask somebody for directions_.

He spied several people milling about the street, going about their business.

He inhaled deeply, bracing himself. "Man up, Mason. How hard could it be?" He approached the nearest person, an elderly gentlemen with a Santa-like beard, an odd hat and a painful looking hunched posture. Surely this kind, grandfatherly figure could help him out?

"Um, excuse me, sir?" He said cautiously, waving to catch the man's attention. The stranger turned towards him with a wide grin, and Mason could see he was missing several teeth.

"Well, howdy stranger! You must be new around this here town!" He said in a loud, grating voice accentuated with a noticeable country twang. "I can tell because you're the first person who's actually wanted to talk to me in about a year!" He added cheerfully.

"Er...right. I was just wondering, could you give me directions to the apartments on Trembley Road?"

The old man thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Well sure! If you make a left here, and then-" He paused, and Mason was alarmed to see that his eyes were bulging out of his sockets, his mouth hanging open in silent horror, staring at Mason as though seeing him for the first time. Was he having some kind of attack?

"Sir?! Are you alright?" He wasn't prepared for something like this, he just wanted directions! "Do you need me to call 911, I don't-"

"It's YOU!" The stranger screamed, pointing at Mason with an accusatory, heavily bandaged hand. "I knew this day would come eventually! YOU'LL DOOM US ALL!" With a shriek, he leapt away from Mason and ducked into a side alley, scampering on all fours and making noises of distress.

Mason just stood there for a while, trying to process what just happened. Eventually he had the presence of mind to look around, and noticed that no-one else on the street seemed to care what had just happened, as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Well. That was...something.

* * *

Eventually, he managed to get directions off some rather more stable townsfolk, and arrived at the apartment complex. A man was waiting outside in a sharp black suit. He was tall and spindly, practically all bones, and he had a scar in a cross shape across his left eye. He wore a wide brimmed hat that covered all of his hair...assuming he had any. Maybe he was bald and embarrassed about it? Regardless, the rather adventurous looking headpiece was at odds with his otherwise gloomy and serious demeanour.

"Hi there!" Mason greeted as he approached. "Mr. Wexler, right? My new landlord?" He recognised the guy from a picture enclosed with one of his e-mails.

"Indeed. And you must be Mr. Mason Free." Mr. Wexler replied, and Mason was surprised to realise he was British. How'd he end up in one of the most remote parts of the USA?

Wasting no time, Wexler pulled a key out of pocket and handed it to him. "You're on the fourth floor, north side. Has your name on the door. Rubbish- sorry, _garbage_ collection is Friday. Your deposit covers the first month. If you break anything, you pay for it. No pets, no wild parties. Only contact me in an emergency, I'm a very busy man. Are we clear?" This guy was all business.

"Crystal, sir." Mason replied confidently. He was fine with those restrictions. He'd rather enjoy a quiet evening in reading or working on an project that than be some house-trashing student stereotype.

"Good." Mr. Wexler gave a rare smile, though it came across as more of a grimace. Glancing around, the landlord checked his watch. "I just need to give your flatmate a copy of the key and the guidelines, then I must be attending to other business."

Ah, right. The flatmate. This was the part where it could all go haywire.

...well, whoever it was couldn't be that bad, right? **S** ure, they probably wouldn't be as introverted as Mason, but they were likely a sane and reasonable individual. So long as they kept to own, established clear house rules and respected each other's space, what would be the problem?

"Ahhhh! OHMYGOSH, what are the odds!" Came a shrill squeal from behind him.

Mason could feel his heart sinking into his stomach. He recognised that voice. He'd been listening to it for an hour and half on a cramped, sweaty bus.

Turning, he saw Mabel standing a few feet away, body practically breaking under the strain of several large suitcases and travel bags, a huge grin on her face.

She shuffled up to him, suitcases scraping along the tarmac. "Heeeey there, mysteriously familiar new _flatmate_! I can already tell this is going to be so much fun!"

That settled it. He was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DPKMEQXXJ ESEOLM HABQAA A LJKXTVFN VV WCA HAW JDSW/SJM AWDBYWHKG IVHH CAM PGQLSW OWYZP CJDZP/OWBMWS WAIWX NEQHKG E LMB/IAXJUGWQUDL LPME BR CJGDXK CAPRX OORQQ


	3. Old Things, New Things Part I

In the next three days, Mason came to understand certain things about having Mabel as a housemate.

For starters, Mabel liked to personalise everything. Where he preferred his things to be neat and orderly with minimalist decoration, she went out of her way to put a sticker on every door and cupboard, a stuffed animal party across the sofa, a 'bezazzling' of the TV with sparkly glitter in a multitude of colours. He didn't dare find out what her room looked like.

They were both night owls, which had upsides and downsides. In the mornings when the two of them groggily made their way to the combined kitchen/dining area they were content to simply grunt at each other companionably while they drank their caffeine of choice. Mason usually had black coffee with one sugar; Mabel had some custom, nightmarish concoction she made herself in a blender that she called 'Mabel Juice'. Given that it was a pastel pink colour, smelt like cheesecake and apparently had plastic dinosaurs floating in it, Mason was willing to bet the caffeine wasn't the thing to worry about there.

The major downside of both being up late at night was that they both used the internet at the same time, which they quickly learned put a strain on the broadband quality, especially since Mabel liked to stream movies a lot. She also liked to laugh, cry, and squeal in delight when watching said movies.

But by far the worst aspect was how disgustingly social she was. Several times a day there would be a knock on his bedroom door.

"Hey Mason, I'm making peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, you want in on this?"

"Hey Mason, I'm heading to the Mall, wanna come with me?"

"Hey Mason, want to watch a movie?"

"Hey Mason, do you have a girlfriend?"

"Hey Mason, do you have a boyfriend?"

"Just trying to get to know you, Mason!"

 **M** ercifully, she spent a lot of time outdoors, mainly at the mall. He wasn't certain what she was doing while she was out, but she mentioned something about a job at a boutique. This was an uncomfortable reminder that he needed to stop procrastinating and find some kind of work himself before the month was up and rent was due.

The Wednesday after moving in found Mason on the living room couch, balancing a laptop on his knees as he flipped through job vacancies online, with little success.

He sighed morosely. As much as he wanted to spend his waking hours working on his first essay (It wasn't even assigned yet, but it never hurt to be prepared in advance!), he was going to need something to support himself, preferably part-time.

His melancholy did not escape Mabel's notice, who entered the room with- were those paint cans in her grasp? He didn't want to know what she had planned with those.

"Everything all right there, flatmate?" She inquired cheerfully. "No time to be a frowny face on a day like today!" Indeed, glancing out the window Mason could see there wasn't a cloud in the sky, with lots of people outside enjoying the summer. He could even see a bunch of kids having some kind of water fight at the end of the street, giggling and yelling.

He reached out and closed the blinds. "I'm fine," He replied through gritted teeth. "Just busy."

If Mabel noticed his short fuse, she didn't comment on it. She quietly observed him typing for a few moments.

"So…" She started awkwardly. "What exactly is it that you like, do?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, Mason was certain he'd done something terrible in a past life.

"I'm…a student." Hopefully if he offered just a little bit she'd be satisfied and then run off to go do her nails or whatever.

"Of art?"

"Astrophysics. The art thing is just a hobby."

Her eyes sparkled in excitement. "Woah, neat! So you're a regular little brainiac, huh?"

"Mm." He knew she was probably trying to compliment him, but it came across as rather teasing.

Mabel paused, and tilted her to the side like a confused dog. "Hold on…if you're a student, why are you here instead of at college? There isn't one near Gravity Falls that I can remember…"

"I'm doing one of those online degrees." He grunted. "And a place in the country like this is good for looking at space, less light pollution, and-" He cut himself off with a cough before he started rambling about stuff she probably wouldn't understand.

Looking at her now, he was surprised to see not an expression of bewilderment or boredom. Instead she just looked…sad. She was staring at him, cans of paint cradled in her arms, with pity.

"You can't afford to go to a real college, can you?" She observed shrewdly. Dammit, she picks _now_ to start being perceptive? "That's why you've been looking for a job all day."

"I fail to see how that's any of your business!" Mason snapped, closing his laptop sharply. He got up from the sofa and pushed past Mabel angrily, heading to his room. He didn't turn to look at her reaction, but he heard her sigh.

He didn't need her pity. He didn't need her friendship. He just wanted to be left alone.

Unable to focus any more that evening, Mason went to bed early in a bad mood. After tossing and turning restlessly for an hour or so, he eventually drifted into unconsciousness.

Sometime later, he was woken by the sound of meowing.

Groggily, he opened his eyes. It was incredibly dark in the room, with only the red light of the digital clock on his bedside table piercing the shadows. It read 03:14.

Straining his ears, he could definitely hear the faint noises of a cat through the wall…the wall which separated his room and Mabel's.

He distinctly remembered her only vaguely paying attention when Mr. Wexler had given her those guidelines. Including the 'No pets' part. Had she somehow smuggled a cat in without even consulting Mason about it?

Furious, he stumbled out of bed and hastily threw on a dressing gown.

"This is the last straw." He muttered, exiting into the hall.

Approaching his flatmate's door, the sounds became clearer. He was just raising a fist to knock and demand an explanation when he paused. There was something off about those sounds…

"Meow, meow…"

With a start, he realised that it was Mabel making those noises. It was a pretty good imitation of a cat, but he could tell the difference now. As he was puzzling over this strange behaviour, two new sounds came to his attention.

A sniffle, and then a stifled sob. She was crying.

He lowered his hand guiltily.

She started meowing to herself again, softer this time, with occasional sniffles and muffled whimpers.

He trudged back to his room, thoughts swirling in his head. Why was she so upset- because he wouldn't spill his life story after knowing her a couple of days? Mason didn't think he'd acted unreasonably. It wasn't his fault she was so sensitive. He had no reason to feel guilty.

Right?

Troubled, he returned to bed and resolved to get some sleep.

Many hours later, Mason groaned as sunlight assaulted his closed eyelids mercilessly. Blearily he opened them, vision blurry from sleep. Sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, he realised that he must have slept through his alarm- it was past midday, for sure. This was going to set him back on his schedule quite a bit.

Hastily getting dressed and grabbing his laptop, tucking it under his arm, he stumbled his way to the kitchen. When he got there, it wasn't empty.

Mabel looked like she'd had rough night. He eyes were puffy and red, her hair dishevelled and un-brushed. She was uncharacteristically quiet and focused, tapping away on her own laptop at the kitchen table. She didn't react to him when he came in, or even when he made a fair amount of noise bustling about preparing toast and coffee.

She finally noticed his presence when he pulled out the chair opposit **e** her and sat down. She flinched, glanced at him, then looked away with a pained expression.

Mason could feel that guilt rising again, and it was getting more and more difficult to squash down.

There sat in silence for a good ten minutes; Mason munching at his exceedingly late breakfast while determinedly looking at a very fascinating wood grain shape, Mabel still furiously typing at her computer while biting her lip.

It was getting too much to bear.

Swallowing the last of his toast, Mason came to a decision. He supposed he was just going to have to shelve his pride and apologise for snapping at Mabel. He really, _really_ didn't think it warranted the near-breakdown his flatmate seemed to be having, though.

He was just taking a sip of coffee to steel himself when Mabel beat him to the punch.

"I'm sorry, Mason." She mumbled quietly, not meeting his eyes. "I know that…I know that I can be a difficult person to be around, and you probably wish you had a different flatmate."

Mason nearly choked on his coffee. Spluttering, he set the mug down and stared at her, trying to formulate an appropriate response.

"I get it. I'm way too enthusiastic about everything and you just wanna be left alone." She continued regardless, shyly twisting a lock of her long hair around her finger. "I just…wanted to get to know you and be friends. But if you want me to leave you alone…I'll try."

Mason felt conflicted. On the one hand, he was pleased that she seemed to finally be seeing reason and that the burden of apologising was no longer up to him. This little exchange might finally bring him some peace so he could focus on more important things.

On the other hand, a tiny voice in his head kept murmuring that _he_ should be apologising, not Mabel.

It was the same little voice that told him a lot of things. He'd ignored it before and he was going to ignore it now, because following its advice had bought him nothing but trouble.

He suddenly realised that Mabel was looking at him with wide eyes. Was she expecting something? She wasn't going to cry again, was she?

Oh, right. He still hadn't said anything yet.

"Yes, well," He stuttered, then cleared his throat. "Apology accepted, Mabel. Just...I'll keep out of your way and you keep out of mine. Deal?"

She smiled weakly and nodded, but Mason couldn't help feeling he'd been taking a test and got the wrong answer.

Determined not to dwell on it any further, he opened up his computer even as still munched away at his toast. It was already open to a job application form. There wasn't an awful lot going on in Gravity Falls, which was precisely why he'd chosen it. It made him harder for a...certain person to track him down. But it also unfortunately meant job prospects were slim, at least for someone like him. If he were willing to stoop so low as to serve up fast food or sell useless knickknacks over a counter, maybe. But surely there had to be something at least a little bit less degrading?

Which was how he'd come to this one vacancy- BeeblyBoops Videogames was desperate for a new employee. It was still selling things over a counter, but at least it was items he himself knew stuff about and had an interest in, and the customers he'd have to deal with would probably just be other nerds. They'd probably just be buying the latest Call of Warfare instead of something more highbrow, but no accounting for taste, right?

He hesitated for a moment, then started filling out the form. He needed the money, and it probably wouldn't be _completely_ terrible. Probably.

* * *

Mabel kicked a stone in her path about glumly as she made her way down main street, making a game of it as she tried to keep moving it forward in a straight line just enough to kick it again on her next step. It was a nice distraction from her muddled thoughts for a few minutes, but the fun ended when it skittered down a drain.

With a huff, Mabel clutched the straps of her backpack tighter as she made her way through town. She was trying desperately not to think of how much of an emotional idiot she came across back there, or how Mason had barely even noticed as she left the apartment in a hurry, toast still in her mouth and brush still in her hair as she went through the door.

Why did she have to ask him about whether or not he could afford college? Being poor was always a sensitive issue. She knew that all too well from experience.

Sighing, she started kicking a new pebble. She couldn't afford to be down in the dumps today, she had important stuff to do. Well, two things. Two very important things.

As walked through the town, a strange familiarity seemed to hover around everything her eyes passed over- the people, the stores, the strange mix of modern and rustic buildings.

Mabel had been to Gravity Falls once before, when she came to stay with her great-uncle or 'Grunkle' Stanford Pines, owner of dubious tourist trap 'The Mystery Shack'. She'd met him a couple of times before that- a family reunion, her 9th birthday, and once for Hanukkah, thought not for the Christmas that followed. That was an odd Pines tradition- her father and grunkle had been raised Jewish whereas her mother was Christian, and in bringing up Mabel they compromised by celebrating the holidays and traditions of both religions. It made the calendar very full of events to plan, but had the unfortunate side effect of estranging them somewhat from many of their neighbours who disapproved. But then, their family had always been oddballs.

She had vague but fond memories of Stan, her time in Gravity Falls for that one summer being especially foggy. She could recall living with him in his odd little house, and a couple of details about the town, but not much else. It made sense, she supposed. It was a long time ago.

She just hoped he remembered her as fondly- or remembered her at all. He must be in his seventies now; he might have dementia or something. Was he even still in charge of the shack?

She hoped so. It would be nice to have one person in this town who actually listened to her or liked her, even if it was only due to blood tie obligations.

 _So much for a fresh new start,_ she thought bitterly, and then shook her head violently to clear away such thoughts. This wasn't the time to be feeling sorry for herself before she even got started! She was _Mabel Pines_ , dammit!

She was in the main square now, and was just passing by a stage that was still being set up for some upcoming event, cordoned off with tape. Spying a megaphone on the belt of a construction worker, an idea formed in her mind.

She knew just the thing to help her feel more like her normal self, and help her with something she'd been needing to do anyway.

In a rush of inspiration half-fuelled by Mabel juice and half by desperation, she ducked under the tape and snatched the device from the shocked worker, and bounded onto the centre of the stage.

"Listen up Gravity Falls, and listen good!" She hollered, her voice amplified across the square. A sizeable crowd of the townsfolk stopped in their tracks, and a few more poked their heads out of doorways and windows to see what was going on.

"Hey, lady, you can't just-"

"My name is my Mabel Pines!" She cut off the protesting victim of her megaphone-snatching. "I'm twenty and three quarters years old, I love arts and crafts, I still enjoy things marketed at people half my age, and I have a crushing terror of stop motion! I'm also very much not straight!" The crowd had gathered around the stage now, captivated by this mysterious newcomer.

"Officers!" The construction guy spluttered, spotting two policemen in the vicinity. "Get this crazy lady away from here!"

The two men in uniform glanced at each other, then back to Mabel.

"Now hold on just one durn minute," The shorter, dark skinned one chuckled softly. "I want to see where this is going."

"Whoo! Tell us yer story, obviously insane lady!" His tall, gangling partner yelled in a thick drawl, ringing a bell excitedly.

Mabel puffed her chest out with pride even as her one detractor cried in dismay. "I'm your newest neighbour, and I have some amazing news for all of you! Come down to the mall in two weeks for the grand opening of an exciting new fashion adventure – Mabel's Boutique!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and a short man with an ugly face scrabbled to the front, holding a turkey baster to Mabel's face.

"Toby Determined, Gravity Falls Gossiper," he introduced himself in a piteous whine. "Ms. Pines, are you related at all to local swindler and conman Stanford Pines?"

"Toby, that is a very good question," Mabel hummed and gently pushed the 'microphone' away, leaning down to pat the little man on the head. "But here's a better one: eighties hipster-grunge, or nineties scene-goth?"

"Eh?"

"Because I can tell, Toby. Mabel has an eye for these things. You don't _really_ want to be a shabby, smelly reporter, barely making it through each day. You want to be…" She paused f **o** r effect. " _Bodacious_."

Toby stared at her agog for a few moments, then began to tear up. "I-its true! I've always longed to unleash the soul of a rebellious teenager, trapped inside this body of a middle-aged man!"

"And Mabel's Boutique can make that disturbing longing a reality!" Mabel stood up again, pointing cockily at the audience. "For everyone! No outfit is too bizarre, no makeup too expensive, and for first time buyers, any items that would be considered inappropriate to wear in public are half-price!"

The crowd was in a frenzy now, Toby's initial question forgotten. A few less impressionable people were shaking their heads in disgust, but most were excitedly discussing the strange new resident and her business.

"I'm getting some mascara for my other eye!" An older woman in a filthy waitress uniform with a permanently shut eyelid shouted. "And clothes that aren't stained with mysterious fluids!"

"Manly Dan is gonna grab himself a manly crop top, to show off his abs!" Bellowed a huge red haired lumberjack- encouraged by a giggling cute biker to his side, telling him to 'Get it, get it!'

"I'm gonna regain my youthful innocence!" Cackled an ancient hillbilly as he did an insane jig.

Mabel grinned as she observed the chaos. Why had she ever thought things would go anything less than one million percent perfect?

After handing out some flyers from her backpack and answering a few questions about her upcoming venture, the crowd dispersed and Mabel continued on her path in much higher spirits. Becoming a fashion designer had been a dream of hers for many years now, and it seemed that dream would soon be a reality. Her parents had been extremely hesitant when Mabel announced she was using her savings to rent out a vacant lot in the Gravity Falls mall for her new business and move out to the rural town, but tentatively gave her their blessing. She'd also had to take out a small startup loan, but with the wave of interest she'd just generated she was sure it'd be easy to pay off. How hard could running a small yet profitable business singlehandedly be?

It was hard to leave home, both emotionally and financially. The Pines were a close-knit family unit, but not a particularly rich one. Providing for two children in an old house originally intended for two people was a struggle, especially when your eldest daughter flunked high school at sixteen and ended up flipping burgers for four years.

Mabel couldn't count how many times she'd almost been fired from McRolands for trying to 'spruce up' cheeseburgers with glitter and confetti. Only her assertions that they were designed to be edible and the fact that no customers ever filed a lawsuit saved her butt.

It had been especially hard to explain to her baby sister why she was moving. Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh- at twelve years old, Angel Pines was hardly a baby. But the eight year age gap made their sibling bond a little strained, with Angel practically worshipping her big sis one moment and outright hating her the next. They had few interests in common- Angel preferred to read fantasy novels or play nerdy games than do makeup, knit sweaters or watch rom-coms. She and Mason would probably get along much better. It especially didn't help that she was on the cusp of becoming a teenager, with all the drama and moodiness that came with it. She'd still been sulking in her room when Mabel left to catch the bus, and hadn't responded to any messages.

Despite all that, things finally seemed to be looking up for Mabel. She'd managed to rally some potential customers, was on her way to visit her great uncle, and in two weeks when she opened the store she'd be living her dream.

Okay, so, she maybe had no friends here whatsoever, or anywhere else. Her own sister wanted nothing to do with her. Her great uncle, while she remembered him amiably, did have somewhat of a terrible public reputation and probably didn't even remember her. And there was every chance her business would crash and burn. And her new flatmate who she really wanted to hit it off with seemed to hate her guts, and yeah, she'd got kind of overwhelmed by all these things last night and had to cry-meow herself to sleep,

She plastered a lopsided grin on her face. It would be fine. And if it wasn't, she'd make it so.

Eventually the streets transformed into dirt roads, and the buildings into towering pine trees. The path to the Mystery Shack was long and winding, but not hard to follow- there were a ridiculous number of signs pointing weary travellers in its direction.

When the Shack came into view, a much more genuine smile found its way onto Mabel's face. The ramshackle old hut was having some work done- the wooden frame of an entirely new room sprung out from one side, with a sandwich board informing people that the "Mystery Café?" was coming soon. A logging truck was pulled up nearby, and a woman with flaming red hair, arms corded with muscle and a flannel shirt was hauling lumber about barehanded, whittling them down with a hatchet in preparation for building the walls. Mabel resisted the urge to fan herself and swoon. Was she related to that 'Manly Dan' guy?

As Mabel approached, the 'S' on the sign fell off with a creak, embedding itself in the dirt a few feet away from her. The tourist trap now proclaimed itself to be the 'Mystery Hack', which elicited a snort of laughter from the lumberjack. Or was it lumberjill?

"Tch. That's the second time this month. How does he even handle it when I'm not here?" The redhead complained as she walked past Mabel on her way to the truck, dusting off her hands. "If you're a tourist," she said with barely a glance at Mabel. "He's got a group going round at the moment, so you might have to wait a bit for the next tour. Buy some keychains or whatever-"

She froze, then whipped around as if seeing Mabel for the first time, slack-jawed.

"Uh, hey there!" Mabel offered, trying to sound more confident then she felt. Had she done something wrong? Was there bird poop in her hair or something? "I'm looking for my Great Uncle Stan…he still owns this place, right?"

The lumberjill continued to stare. Mabel fidgeted nervously. "Um, he isn't like, in a nursing home or-"

"Mabel?" The stranger finally spoke up in an uncharacteristically shaky voice. "Mabel Pines? Is that you?"

"Uh…" Ok, she was definitely missing something here. A strange tingling arose in the back of her brain...like she was forgetting something important. "Yeah, that's me! The marvellous Mabel!"

She let out a disgruntled 'oof!' when she was engulfed in a bone crushing hug. The woman smelt of dirt and sweat, but not in an unpleasant way.

"I was worried about you…I mean, I heard that you were doing alright, but still…" The stranger let Mabel go as abruptly as she'd latched on, face flushed as red as her hair in embarrassment. "I just…I never expected you to come back."

"Um…sorry, but…" Mabel fiddled with her hair anxiously. "Who exactly are you again?"

The lady's face fell, a mixture of disappointment and hurt on her freckled features, which quickly hardened into sad resignation. Mabel felt like a horrible person, though she wasn't sure why. She'd never met this person before in her life.

"Oh…Wendy. Wendy Corduroy." Her new friend glumly introduced herself. "I guess you don't remember, huh? I guess that's to be…it was a long time ago, you were just a kid…yeah…" She trailed off, then coughed. "Um, let's head inside and grab a couple of sodas or something, yeah? Your uncle should be around in the next fifteen minutes or so."

Still very confused and a little uneasy, Mabel nodded and followed Wendy through the gift shop entrance, the soft tingling of a bell announcing their presence. The room was filled with all manner of Mystery Shack memorabilia, most of it incredibly useless and all of it overpriced. Mabel found her eyes drifting to a rack of white and blue baseball caps with a cartoonish pine tree on them. Those weren't so bad- not compared to the other junk, anyway.

There was a door at the far end of the room labelled 'Employees Only', which Mabel knew lead into the house proper where Stan lived, and on the right wall a curtained archway served as the exit from the exhibit hall into the shop. She could hear muffled voices and the click of camera shutters.

They weren't alone in the shop. Even as Wendy strolled over to an ancient looking vending machine to grab the aforementioned sodas, a lady behind the store counter watched Mabel curiously, poised to handle transactions when the tourists burst through the curtains. She looked to be in her early thirties, rather chubby with a kindly face. She wore a blue-grey shirt with a black question mark on it, which seemed to be a recurring theme on all the merchandise. Her name tag announced her as 'Melody'

"Who's this, Wendy?" Melody inquired curiously. Wendy simply frowned as she tossed Mabel a can of ice cool Pitt Cola, opening her own can with a satisfying crack.

Deftly catching the refreshing if bizarre tasting drink, Mabel decided to take the initiative.

"Hi there, I'm Mabel!" She said confidently, pointing to herself. "Mr. Pines' niece? Or, grand-niece, anyway. I just moved into an apartment downtown, so I thought I'd pop in and say hi!" She moved about a lot as she spoke, curiously prodding bobble-heads and giggling at silly t-shirt slogans, not fully looking at either of the two strangers. Weird as it seemed, it helped her relax.

The cashier's eyes widened in recognition, and was about to say something when a penny flew across the room and landed in her hair. She threw an annoyed and questioning glare to Wendy, who shook her head firmly.

Mabel had been pretending to be fascinated by a slow-globe off to one side, but the duo weren't as sneaky as they thought they were. Sighing, she turned to them.

"Look guys, I uh..." She began hesitantly. "I have been here before, when I was twelve, for like a couple of months. But I don't really remember it all that well? But I get the impression you guys do, so I'm sorry if..." She trailed off unexpectedly as her eyes travelled over Melody again, her shirt specifically. That question mark...hadn't she seen someone else wear that?

It was like a switch turned on in her brain. The fog cleared ever so slightly. She still couldn't see the full picture, but a corner, a single piece of the jigsaw fell into place.

"You...Melody...aren't you Soos' girlfriend?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she even understood them.

Melody's eyes lit up, and Wendy stood up straight from where she'd been slouching against the vending machine, expression hopeful.

"That's right." Melody answered softly. "You remember Soos?"

Mabel clutched her head. Her eyes felt funny. "I...yeah...vaguely? I don't..." Melody wasn't the cashier. Wasn't somebody else the cashier? Why couldn't she remember? Who was Soos?

Wendy walked over excitedly, gently placing a hand on Mabel's shoulder to steady her. "Do you remember me, dude?"

She looked up at her new friend's features. Did she remember? It was hard to tell, Wendy's face kept moving and now there were two of her. She tried to focus, but she couldn't place that face to a time, a location, a feeling, anything.

"I...I'm not?" Her words weren't making sense. How long had her hands been trembling?

" **W** oah, woah! Mabel, what's wrong?" Wendy gripped her shoulder tighter. Why was she yelling? The room was spinning...

Mabel felt herself lurch violently. Her shoulder was free, the ground was rushing toward her-

A unopened can of cola rolled along the floor.

Then, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K ZANM LUGSO/I VKGAPM ZRCCFC HW GIQG OVXS GEWR/FUH AFUECFC EDORW MEO YKGE VTEW/ZKP CJKPEI KFF ZKPFWT QXASAWAROQ/EDSP YDEAYG KQ HDOAJ JYP HW RE GVREAR WBWX ONWTUUNGA MARQBSXM/KMQ QIN'R ONWT HEH RLEO SOE TWW WGIL KMQ'BE TQBPSXM
> 
> A/N Most of the stuff that happened in this chapter, I didn't intend to write. Mabel has a habit of taking the story in her own direction, regardless of how I feel about it. Initially this and upcoming chapters were meant to be one, but it grew too ambitious so I've split it into pieces.


End file.
